Forgive me father, for I have touched the No-Touch Sensor

"Plenty of time for civility come January," says the shopping public. "Now get the fuck out of my way." Not one to argue with ravening (is this a word?) hordes, I oblige, and intend to continue obliging until auld has been thoroughly lang syned and singing Santas are at least 50% off.

The upside of this vow of hermitage is that I've laid in enough supplies to produce some gifts and maybe some "art," if we can go that far, which I will write about forthwith on quilting stuff.